


Back in the Day is Now

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-07 22:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: A series of tumblr prompts of various themes.





	1. You're getting a vasectomy. That's final.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt "you're getting a vasectomy. That's final."

Although they have experienced tremendous tragedy, she can’t help but think of all the _miracles_ they have been given. Returns from death and near-death experiences that have given them the most precious thing in life: _Time_. 

But _dammit_ she was _late_.

Scully’s cycle had been like clockwork since William, like the pregnancy had shocked her body back to stasis after the irregular periods after her abduction.

At first, she rolls her eyes and rationalizes that she has simply gone into menopause. It would make sense- she feels as though she has been an emotional wreck lately, vacillating from sadness and anger. And the hot flashes. She practically had to shake from Mulder’s arms to stop her body from overheating.

And yet, just before they set out to save their son, she finds herself perched above the toilet, throwing up the contents of her stomach. 

“ _Oh God_ ,” she moans before she feels her stomach contract again. The bile burns her esophagus.

She hears a shuffle of blankets and a mumbled “Scully?” before he takes in the sight of her. She hadn’t even had time to close the door. 

“M'sick” she tries to reply and he can’t help but feel grateful that she is letting him in again. Not shutting him out with an ‘I’m fine’.

He fills the glass on vanity with water and wets a washcloth. After she’s finally finished, she rests her head against the toilet seat, relishing it’s coolness.

“Let’s get you back to bed, honey,” Mulder soon says, gently helping her from the floor and supporting her as they shuffled across the bedroom. He knew how important it was for her to feel in control of her body, even if carrying her to bed would have been much faster. 

* * *

She’d finally taken a test, confirmed her suspicions and cried in his arms, all in one night.

* * *

Mulder rests his hand on her knee at the Doctor’s, noticing her worry. Her eyes drift around to the other mothers, the magazines, and the posters. All women likely two decades younger than her. Mulder’s hand gently squeezes her knee, keeping her thoughts from wandering and her feet on the ground. It had taken a few weeks to get into the Doctor’s, but she came highly recommended, specializing in high-risk pregnancies. She closes her eyes for a moment and rests her hand around the small bump under her sweater. 

Later, she is laying back on the paper-coated table as the cool gel is applied to her belly and the wand begins to wander. 

She reaches out but doesn’t have to go far as Mulder is right by her side. Scully takes her hand in his and squeezes his fingers, her anxiety peaking as the woman continues to search her stomach for a heartbeat. 

“Ah, there we are!” She finally says exuberantly. At the rapid thumping sound of their child’s heartbeat, their own hearrates quicken, excitement blooming. “It appears as though you’re around 13 weeks.”

The woman seems to notice something on the screen and moves the wand slightly over, bathing the room in a thumping noise once again. 

“Someone was trying to hide!” The woman says happily. “You’re having twins!”

She turns to Mulder, whose face is mixed with shock, panic and woozy glee. He bends his neck to press his lips against her temple, fervently whispering against her hairline. 

_A miracle_ , she thinks. _Two_ miracles, she corrects. Mulder’s plush lips against her hairline keep her fears at bay, if only for the moment. As he finally reaches to kiss her lips she meets his eyes, giving him the sternest look she can muster at the moment. 

“You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final." 

"Scully, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he chuckles, kissing her smiling lips.


	2. I need a place to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the tumblr prompt "I need a place to stay." Season 11.

The house was a rental and properly insured, but her possessions are completely ruined. _Everything_. Granted, she had been slowly leaving a sweater or some toiletries at Mulder’s, and some of her items were simply put in storage but the loss is still tangible. 

Mulder had thrown himself atop her earlier. Even now, when their relationship was precarious, he still cared for her. In her heart of hearts, Scully knew how deeply he loved her. But feeling his protective presence was _different_. 

Sitting in the diner, she looked at Mulder and realized resolutely that she wanted to try again. Not _only_ sex, or the odd night at her once-home. She wanted to be his partner again, in every sense of the word. They’d wasted so much time and being away from him had been so _hard_. 

Earlier in her life, she recalls arguing that loneliness was a choice. But even then, she didn’t truly believe her own words. Leaving him was a choice, even though they were both wilting and lashing out at one another. The late nights she spent yearning for him, missing his arms around her in bed, however, were not a choice. 

She rested her hand atop his, wanting to convey her message, but not knowing how. When he gently squeezed her hand, she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing from the comfort such a gesture provided and deciding the conversation could wait, if only for a moment. 

Returning to Mulder’s car, she sat in the passenger’s seat and he started the engine. As he began to drive, her anxiety grew. She knew this town. With each turn, her suspicions grew stronger. He was taking her to the Hilton. Sadness began to steadily bloom in her chest, but she couldn’t blame him for bringing her to a hotel. 

But that’s not what she wanted. No, she didnt want to sleep alone, be without _him._ But those words stuck in her mouth like honey. They were difficult, and made her sound needy. But she needed to say _something_ -

“I-” she stuttered “I need a place to stay.”

The light changes from red to green, but Mulder lingers at the light, the car idling. 

“You don’t want-” he pauses, confusion in his eyes gone with a shake of his head. A honk from behind. “Nevermind,” he hits the gas. 

“What?” She asks earnestly, turning her body to face him. “Mulder?”

“I just thought you’d want to come back to” he licks his lower lip, eyes on the road “I guess I misinterpreted-”

“No,” she cuts him off. “I do-”

“Then why-”

“I thought you were dropping me off at the Hilton,” she says, almost ashamed as the car glides past the large building, continuing on it’s route. 

At this, he chuckles, at himself and all of the misunderstandings they seem to find themselves in, “we really need to work on our communication, Scully," 

She’s not sure whether it’s relief, lack of sleep, the loss of her Earthly possessions or the way Mulder still looks at her the same way after all these years. Or maybe it’s the car pulling up into their Target parking lot and Mulder plainly responding to her confusion saying with a shrug that he knew they carried her satin pajamas. Either way, large tears begin to slip from her eyes and slide down her face.

"Hey, hey,” Mulder says softly, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I know,” she says with a watery smile, drying her eyes and regaining her composure. “I- I’m just so glad you’re here." 

He takes her hand in his across the console and presses it against his lips, before shooting her a sly smile. 

"Ready to max out my credit card?" 

Always the expert at this game of toss between them, she unclips her seatbelt and opens the door, coyly throwing back over her shoulder.

"You only brought one?”


	3. You're bleeding all over my carpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the prompt: "you're bleeding all over my carpet." Post-Milagro.

Her cries are guttural and each sob seems to take a small piece from her already weakened form. Her hands clutch at his back, neck, hair, nails unintentionally scratching. 

He has never seen her so distraught.

“ _Scully_ ,” he tries to sooth, while simultaneously trying to check her for wounds. She was _covered_ in blood. “Where does it hurt?" 

"I- I” she sputters, “I’m fine.” Her voice mixed with confusion and distress.

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet, you’re not fine,” Mulder says plainly, trying to reason with her as he tries to find a wound on her chest to staunch it. There is _nothing_ and he can’t mask his own surprise _._

“I didn’t see anything, Mulder," she says and he lays her back on the carpet, thinking she’s going into shock from blood loss. Her eyes dart back and forth across the room and are shimmering with tears. She isn’t making sense. "I can’t die.” She sounds shocked by her own words and begins to hyperventilate. 

The paramedics storm through the door with a stretcher and he grips her hand tightly as she is hoisted up, an oxygen mask placed over her face. 

“Scully, you have to relax,” he tries to reassure as they lift her into the ambulance. “You’re going to be okay.”

She shakes her head furiously, tears slipping from her eyes as she begs him to see.

“No,” she rasps, the oxygen mask distorting her voice. “He didn’t come for me.”

Mulder searches his mind to try to put together the pieces. She was trying to tell him something. Finally, he remembers their drive back from New York, when she finally opened up to him, her cheek pressed against the frost-covered window.

’ _There was a shadow coming closer, Mulder. But Fellig told me to close my eyes and suddenly the shadow was gone and Fellig was dead_.’

Mulder’s eyes widen as he realizes the reason for her anguished sobs was not pain. Scully, who had fought so valiantly to stay alive was now terrified that she could not die. He knew the case had shaken her, both physically and mentally, but the sight of her sobbing on a stretcher at the fear of her immortality had petrified him. 

Her breaths were shallow and rapid and her skin was glistening with sweat. Her hand was trembling in his. She was having a panic attack.

Mulder slips his hand from hers, leaning over her. He takes her face in his and gently turns it so she meets his eyes again.

“I know you’re scared,” he says, sweeping her sweat-soaked from her forehead. “But you are _not_ alone, Scully. We’ll get through this together.”

She closes her eyes and swallows, repeating his words in her head like a mantra ’ _not alone, not alone, not alone.’_

If she repeats it long enough, she hopes she’ll believe him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often wonder what Scully was thinking here, especially because if comes after Tithonus in canon. This was my attempt to plot out her thought process.


	4. Face down on the bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a combination of the sex prompts "face down on the bed" and "tell me I'm a good girl". During Home Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Home Again. Angsty with hurt/comfort. 
> 
> Thanks to the Anon who sent the prompts- this is probably not what you wanted, but there is definitely sex.

Dana Scully leaves the hospital angry and teary-eyed. Her mother was dead and her last words had been about the son she'd given away. She couldn't do _anything_ to save her and could offer no assurance that William was safe. 

Her mother died thinking she'd thrown him away like trash. Scully knew their relationship had been strained irreparably by trauma. But somewhere, somehow, she thought they had time to reconcile. 

She was wrong.

Maggie Scully loved her daughter dearly. But she did _not_ forgive her. 

' _I need to work_ ,' she remembers practically begging, grasping his shirt like a lifeline. She needed to stop thinking about this. About all of her failures.

Her mother was dead and her brothers despised her. Bill's voice had reprimanded her over the phone like a child. Like she personally held the threads of their mother's life and intentionally let them go. It had been _her_ fault their mother suffered from so much unnecessary stress, after all. And Charlie had been so angry. She would not call him again. _Ahab would be so disappointed at my life,_ she thinks before she pushes the thoughts away.

The only safe person left to talk to was Missy, but headstones were not conversationalists.

Her family was gone. She was alone. 

Her thoughts begin to race faster and faster as she hurries to her car, trying to somehow escape them. They remind her of her failures. Of all the pain she has caused. Her stomach lurches.

A hand comes to rest on her back as she vomits into the gutter. 

"Scully," he says softly, pulling back her hair as she coughs and cries from exertion, her cheeks hot with the embarrassment of it all. "Let's get you back to the hotel."

"Mul-"

"I know you need to work, Scully," his voice is gentle and non-judgmental as he helps her into the passenger side, easing her protests. "It'll be easier if we don't have to drive back and forth to Philly," he reassures. 

They won't have to pass the exit for her mother's house on the highway each day.

What he doesn't say is that the hotel rooms were on his credit card. That the case was the last thought on his mind. That he knew she need her space, but he wouldn't stand being further than an adjoining door away from her when she might need him. 

* * *

It's late when she softly knocks on his door. _He's asleep. Don't bother him. You've pushed him away, what did you-_

"Scully," he greets, opening the connecting door fully and stopping her intrusive thoughts. 

He's wearing a white undershirt and sweatpants, but his eyes are alert, as if he was expecting her. 

She inches forward, closing the distance between them. Her hand hesitantly raises to cup his cheek and her thumb rubs across the stubble of his shadow. 

"Is this okay?" she asks softly, her eyes watery and red-rimmed. Uncertain. He knows what shes truly asking. 

"Always, Scully," he says softly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

When she initially proposed it years ago, her eyes shifting and a crimson blush flushing her cheeks, he hadn't been entirely shocked. After years of profiling and _knowing_ Dana Scully, it was not alarming that she desired authority and praise in the bedroom. However, the timing of her requests surprised him at first. 

Now, he knows she craves this when she feels most vulnerable. When her negative thoughts have become incessant despite the medication she takes religiously.

She pulls the shirt over his head and runs her small hands over his abs, needing to touch him all over. To make sure he was real.

When he finishes unbuttoning her blouse and she slides her pants over her hips, she lays back on the bed, gazing up at him. 

"Are you sure?" He asks gently, knowing that this may be what she wants, but not what she _needs_. But she simply nods and lifts her hips when he motions to remove her underwear.

She is entirely too dry, so he drops to his knees and pulls her closer to the edge of the bed, her knees bent and legs hanging over the side.

Mulder's mouth is gentle at first before he begins sucking and licking with practiced expertise. Her body begins to heat under him and her soft sounds begin to increase until her arousal is palpable.

But he knows oral sex is not what she wants from him tonight. And he only wants to make her happy, so he removes his mouth and rises to stand. 

He wanted to look into her eyes and tell her how much he loved her. To whisper into her ear, hold her tight, and console her.

Instead, he gives into her, because he will never deny her. 

"Face down on the bed."

The subtle dominance in his voice nearly makes her moan, and she rolls over to her stomach, her cheek pressed into the mattress. Her forearms rest at each side of her face as she raises her hips to meet his. 

He knows that this may be what she wants, but not what she _needs_. But the way she desperately gasps his name makes him think otherwise, and his dick is almost painfully hard in spite of it all. 

He pushes into her slowly at first, and when he sheaths his entire length into her, she releases a low throaty moan. 

His fingers grip her hips as they begin to rock, and soon he is pumping into her.

"Te-tell me" she murmurs, unable to wait any longer.

"You're so good, Scully," he praises. "Such a good girl," he says between breaths.

"Mu-mulder," she whimpers.

"You feel so tight. It's always so _good_ with you."

Her staccato breaths act as further encouragement.

"You're such a _good_ girl," he assures, squeezing at her ass with both hands as he continues to push into her. "so beautiful."

His sounds become deep grunts as he works her clit, wanting to make sure she orgasmed. He couldn't finish first. 

" _My_ good girl," he affirms."Iloveyou so much," he says hurriedly and at this she groans, spasming around him.

" _OhgodOhgod_ "

Her body is rigid underneath him and he holds her steady as she rides out her orgasm. The combination of her breathy voice and the clenching around his dick pushes him over the edge, but the knowledge of what comes next dulls his orgasm considerably.

He carefully pulls his spent dick out of her just as her shoulders begin to shake, followed by a muffled sob. 

She tried to regain control over herself, but was failing miserably. However much she tried hiding from him, it never worked.

" _Scully_ ," he sighs sadly, her body pliant in his hands. They fall to the bed together, her back flush against his chest as she cries. Her body curves inward, as he presses a kiss to her temple. 

He wants so desperately to look at her, but he doesnt want to strip her of her dignity. She avoided his eyes during these episodic crises for a reason, after all. She didn't want to see his pity. 

In these moments, he could truly know her innermost thoughts, as they poured out from her between her sobs. _She was so sorry_ , and _could he ever forgive her_ , and _how could she live with herself._

He murmurs into her ear as he tries to console her. His eyebrows are set in his worry as she cries with abandon, finally releasing her grief. 

But when she wishes she was in her mother's place, he stiffens, a harsh " _no_ ," pushing out of his chest. 

"I can't do this, Mulder," she chokes, and he holds her, whispering soothing words into her hair until her cries slowly subside into sniffles. 

"We'll get through this together," he says, resting his hand atop hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

She sighs deeply and leans closer to his touch.

" _Together_ ," she repeats steadily, slowly succumbing to her exhaustion. Her body sags in relief as her eyes close and she drifts to sleep.

* * *

Later, she wakes covered with a blanket, a glass of water on the bedside table. Her suit has been pressed and hung in the closet, and there is a brown paperbag with bagels and cream cheese sitting on the counter. 

When Mulder emerges from his shower, he begins to give her updates on the trashman of Philly. When he gazes at her, she does not feel pity in his stare, but instead his reassurances. 

_'I am here. We will get through this together.'_

' _Together_ ,' her brain echos just as he swoops in and snags a bite of her bagel, telling her his theory with a full mouth, like old times.

A smile tugs at her lips.

"Mulder, we definitely have a serial killer here, but I don't think there's evidence for anything supernatural."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I really struggled with writing these two together, but I thought this worked?


	5. How drunk was I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompts "how drunk was I" and "I need a place to stay." 
> 
> Post IWTB. Fluff ahead!

He had been the one to remind her that they were on vacation, that today was _special_ , when she considered ordering another fruity drink, complete with maraschino cherry and tiny cocktail umbrella.

Drunk Scully was relaxed, but still composed. Her edges dulled a bit, she would smile more easily, and her feather light touches would become more frequent. 

But somewhere between her hips steadily gyrating against his on the dance floor and a conga line _she_ dragged him into, throwing her head back and laughing, he had found a rare sight.

Wasted Scully. 

Her long hair is draped over her shoulders, and she looks so beautiful smiling at him. He hasn't seen her so happy in a long time. Exoneration papers and a simple vacation was all it took.

Their near constant romps around every surface of their hotel room since arriving two days ago and the glistening ring on her finger couldn't have hurt either. 

But when she presses her hand against the hardness in his pants and makes a motion to extract it, even in his slightly inebriated, loosened state, Mulder knows it's time to get her back to the hotel. Wasted Scully was unbearably horny. 

" _Mullldeeeerr_ ," she whines, loose-limbed, fingers interlaced with his as they stumble back from the beach. They were playing _her_ song, she laments, and he chuckles a bit, knowing for a fact that Dana Katherine Scully proclaiming "My Humps" was her song was definitely blackmail material.

The sand is still residually warm from the heat of the day and she hums at the feeling. But the walk is longer than she remembers and her completely giddy excitement from earlier and her intoxication is quickly turning into drowsiness. 

He feels her slowing down and so he isn't surprised when they get to the boardwalk and her lip pouts, a soft voice asking

"Carry me?"

He still feels hazy at the edges, but is not in the business of denying her comfort, so he nods and suddently she's pressed against his back, her slim arms slack around his neck and her legs around his hips, braced by his strong arms.

She rests her head on his shoulder, obviously content, and the scent of her envelopes him. The fresh lavender aroma of her shampoo and the creamy, clean smell of her skin.

She is carefree and happy, the exhaustion completely vanishing with every nibble, lick , whisper, and kiss he lavished on her. He hasn't seen the worried line between her eyes since they arrived. He has seen her pink gums when she graces him with her loudest, most adorable laugh and it takes him back to nearly a decade ago, when they were completely giddy around each other and so in love. He's happy to be back. 

"Loveyou soo much," Scully slurs into his neck as they walk past the assorted stands, and he silently wishes every night could be like tonight. 

* * *

When they reach the hotel, he lets her down for a moment to search for his wallet, and although she is unsteady on her feet, she quickly makes her way to to the desk. 

"I need a place to stay," she tells the nightshift worker. 

" _Scully_ -" he crosses the room quickly, taking her hand and throwing the worker an apologetic look. The man simply smiles and gives him a friendly wave.

"A _honeymoon_ suite," she smirks as he pulls her way, the keycard successfully remover from his wallet and pressed into his other hand.

"'cause we jusst got married," she tosses back with a giggle. And he doesn't care how drunk she is. Seeing Scully brag about being married to _him_ will _always_ make him radiate with love, whether it was days, weeks, months, decades, or lifetimes after their official anniversary. In reality, they have been bound to one another for much longer than the official 8, going on 9 hours. 

* * *

Although she falls sleep almost immediately after her head touches the pillow, she wakes with a groan early the next morning. 

" _God_ , Mulder. _How drunk was I_?" She moans into her pillow.

"Drunk enough to demand we dance to Fergie," he says with a smile.

She snaps her neck around to pin him with a glare a little too quickly for her hangover and cups her aching head. 

"Advil's on your stand," he mumbles. And sure enough, her extra strength Advil is next to a bottle of Evian. 

When she reaches for the water, she notices the diamond on her finger, the feeling of the weight still fresh. 

"Yesterday was our wedding night and I fell asleep," she says apologetically, as if she somehow let him down. As if she _owed_ him something. 

He is not unaware of the societal expectations and presumptions of wedding nights and he knows that Scully had been prepared to consummate their marriage when he helped her into his Knicks shirt last night, brand new lace lingerie beneath her modest dress. 

"Well, you did grope me on the dance floo-"

"I did _not!"_ She says indignantly, swallowing the pills with a large gulp of the water, and then flopping back on the pillows, her face blushing red as she remembers the feeling of her hand pressed to his groin. 

"C'mere," he whispers, and at his insisting tugs, she wiggles closer, relaxing into his arms, warmed beyond all measures.

"I just wanted our first night to be _special_ ," she whispers, almost disappointed.

"Well," he trails his fingers across her hip. "Being with you last night certainly was special for me, Scully," and he says it so tenderly that she feels love for him flood her body. 

His face is nuzzled up against her earlobe, and his shadow is scratchy in a satisfying way.

"But if you're not convinced, which I have a sneaking suspicion you won't be," he says lightly before his voice changes, dropping so his next words practically drip sex "we have an entire week for you to show off all that lingerie hidden away in your suitcase."

She slaps his arm lightly in mock scolding and calls him a snoop, before turning her head and kissing him slowly.


End file.
